


What a boring fucking day

by TheSaintOfAllSaints



Series: Brief moments in the Boss' life [3]
Category: Saints Row
Genre: Johnny gets into comics and plays cards tbh, Johnny is violent towards everyone at the prison, Johnny misses Playa and Aisha, Prison, also a bit of violence - like throwing down the stairs or shanking, he also has pent up anger, i know nothing on prison and everything in based on like a podcast and 2 documentaries i once saw, oh also nerds, there's also talk about death and stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-10
Updated: 2018-01-10
Packaged: 2019-03-03 07:10:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13336065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSaintOfAllSaints/pseuds/TheSaintOfAllSaints
Summary: How Johnny spent his prison days missing Aisha and Playa.





	What a boring fucking day

**Author's Note:**

> My dudes, I am back with more of my crappy fics, so rejoice.
> 
> 1\. I have never been to prison and all of this is based on like a podcast and two documentaries I once watched. (The podcast is EarHustle which is produced by actual prisoners)  
> 2\. I still don't get how, or why Stillwater Prison is a mixed prison (gender wise) but then again I think there is one prison who is like that.  
> 3\. Once again it was like 2 am when I wrote this.  
> 4\. I gave up halfway through spellchecking this so lemme know if you see a mistake

Waking up was always easy for Gat, he woke up like clockwork at 7 am every day, sometimes - very rarely he would sleep in until 10 am but that was Aisha’s work, she'd drag him back into bed and climb onto him, hug him and say “You ain't going anywhere, not until I get my fill of sleep” He'd let her stay there because he couldn't just throw her off, so he’d massage her back and play with her hair until she fell asleep again, then somehow he'd dose off for another hour or three. So, getting used to waking up in prison at 6 am was no trouble for him, getting showered and clean within 30mins was easy for him, eating food in 20 mins was easy too. He was good at doing things in a limited amount of time. Spending the rest of the day - not so easy. It was boring, and even boring wasn't a good enough word and Johnny believed that there wasn't such a word, a word enough to describe his boredom. He went through the dictionary looking for that word. That's how bored he was.

The ‘nerds’ as a lot of the prisoners referred to the small group of mixed races, that was always found in the ‘neutral’ part of the general population and were always playing DnD, magic the gathering or having a heated discussion why Marvel was better than DC or why the second Robin deserved to die (Johnny never knew there was more than one Robin and the Filipino girl with the too big glasses decided to educate him to the point that he could name them all and knew their backgrounds). He borrowed some of the comics from them, mostly the Batman ones, a few of the Spider-man too. Once Johnny even had a discussion about why Pokemòn was superior to Yu-gi-oh that ended up with him threatening to cut the guys dick off. The nerds were nice enough to get two decent packs of cards in exchange for a pack of cigarettes and a favour. (Which was for him to play the dungeon master for a week which he actually enjoyed.) The cards were old and worn, the Ace of Diamonds had a ripped corner, the diamond king had a large tear in the middle and the ten of Aces was bent in half. Still, a deck was a deck and it did the job of semi-entertaining him.

Sitting at a table playing the same boring fucking card game (because apparently, no other card game exists apart from Poker to the idiots around him), with the same boring fucking people was probably the most exciting thing that has happened to Johnny since he got put into the Stillwater Prison. His constant wins and barely any losses were boring, he was too good of a cheater (Playa taught him well). He would win this shitty poker game too and collect the cigarettes and probably chain smoke them within two hours or swap them for one thing or the other. Maybe go harass the kitchen workers to give him good food instead of some crappy mashed potatoes or steal a book from someone who wasn’t paying attention to it.

It was more exciting the first ten days of him sitting in the 8 by 10ft cell of Stillwater Prison, which was well, literally just sitting in the tiny cell being observed. Ten days for them to evaluate his psyche, if he was going to go off of the deep end and kill every fucker or not, ten days that he had to simply sit still and eat shitty food until he could see the sunlight, walk around the prison yard or talk to someone. Ten days that he spent sleeping, eating or working out.

The big boss, Mr. fucking Troy fucking Bradshaw himself deemed it unnecessary to keep him in indefinite SHU confinement since the Saints were dead.  “There’s no use in keeping him there - the Saints are gone, he has no one in here and no one on the outside.” That just made Johnny’s blood boil to the fucking core, the Saints were not dead, Troy needed to learn to fuck off and mind his own fucking business because as long as Playa and himself were alive the Saints were alive. In his opinion? It should've been a lot longer than 10 days. Any idiot could sit still and act all polite and shit for 10 days. Johnny knew from the minute he stepped into the prison, it was obvious to him that he was going to get into fights and probably add more bodies to his body count. Troy was a fucking idiot if he thought that nothing would happen. If he thought that he could contain Johnny fucking Gat.

However, nothing was truly exciting in prison and didn’t make him feel slow, there weren’t any fights lately to keep him awake and feeling alive, he couldn’t even go to the yard for the past two weeks because of the rain. The so-called fight club was found out, the guards running it were fired and trailed and the prisoners reprimanded and had their sentences prolonged. (Those with life sentences just laughed when they hear the news and lauged even harder because it was only a matter of time before it started up again.). He was cooped up with too much energy to spend and nothing to put it into. He got taken off any sort inmate work routine as slamming a shovel against a guy’s back was ‘inappropriate’ behaviour, putting a guys hand into hot oil was seen as violent and sticking a sharp end of a broken broom into a girls leg was once again - a deliberate act of violence.

It was all so fucking boring, he wasn’t even allowed anywhere near a book because he bitch slapped a guy with a copy of the Silmarillion that one time. (It was Atlas Shrugged the other time and Crime and Punishment the other-other time.) None of the educational courses interested him because fuck being able to recite a poem and writing a fucking essay on why Sylvia Plath baked herself in the oven. Plus that would mean he needed access to the library...to books, which in the eyes of everyone it was a weapon. (It was if you knew how to use it everything was a weapon and Johnny knew how.)

It wasn’t Johnny’s fault the others didn’t know when to back off.

Even after being in the SHU for a year, it felt like an eternity punctuated with small blips of getting food or the fucking psychiatrist bullshitting him about being disappointed in him. “Oh Johnny, you were making such progress and you managed to mess that up.” She would say, “You were really close to getting extended visits and two phone calls a week.” or “Gat, if you keep up this behaviour you will most definitely not get out of here.”

She was his fourth psychiatrist the other three had been threatened by Johnny (although the second one had his ear bit off by some psycho five doors down from him) and quit the next day. It didn't matter that no one showed up to visit him, he strictly told Aisha not to show up, letters, care packages and phone calls only and even then he wouldn’t say her name. He wanted to keep her safe and he knew how much she adored her privacy now. He didn’t want to ruin it for her by slipping up.  It didn't matter that he was most definitely not getting out of the prison legally and if that didn’t happen he would die. He’d write her letter once a week, it used to be twice but nothing of note has been happening of late and writing lovey-dovey bullshit letters wasn’t his thing.

He let his mind and eyes wander around the confined area, stopping every so often on a person or a group.

He learned three things since he got into this mess:

He missed Aisha and Playa so fucking much

He would Kill for a Freckle Bitch’s burger

He hated the colour white and orange

And the people around him learned not to fuck with him, so when he waved people off they left. Well, most people, not the fucking nazis or the few members of the other gangs who Johnny could feel staring at him and plotting a way to suffocate him to death. Each time some punk who tried to pull some shit like that, Johnny would end up breaking them, unless it was some newbie who didn’t know any better - he’d only break their arm and nose then. There was a woman who actually got him hospitalised because she stuck a shard of a mirror into his liver. She, of course, paid with a broken ribs, collarbone, pelvic bone and a fractured spine. (He threw her down a flight of stairs… or maybe it was two but he couldn’t remember.) But hey, at least she got her face reconstructed for free. 

On the flip side, some women and med tried to flirt with him - mostly so they could try and steal his cigarettes, kill him or win a favour from him. He’d indulge them for a few minutes with his lame one-liners before shutting them down and watching all hope of getting into his pants die out. Johnny wasn’t good at anything romantic but he could spot someone pining for him in the jailhouse a mile away. They didn’t even try to be subtle, with their not so soft touches and bringing him food, Johnny denied each gift because he wasn’t new at this - you take something you give something back.

All the Asians hated him, they thought that he betrayed his race by hanging out with Pierce and Shaundi, because one was black and the other was white, because he shared his food - well more like gave the so-called meat or pudding to Pierce in exchange for a portion of rice or an apple, for telling a woman to fuck off instead of letting her strangle Shaundi to death. After that the two of them started sitting beside him, he let them sit beside him because they seemed normal, and Johnny needed someone normal to talk to. Pierce seemed to know everything about everyone and Shaundi made kickass pruno when she got the chance. Both bickered like two seven-year-olds when they got the chance and Johnny had to raise his voice at them like an actual parent - which was always.

Shaundi was in for possession and distribution of drugs on campus, she was getting out in 4 months after spending 5 years. Pierce was in since he was 18 and was getting out in less than a year, just in time for his 25th birthday. Pierce was in for car theft and armed robbery which went wrong - his brother got a bullet through the lung, he didn't like to talk about it - especially since his other younger brother got killed a few months later because he was caught in a fight between the Rollerz and Los Carnales, because Pierce wasn't there to pick him up after school. Someone from his family pulled some strings to get him the 5 years and Pierce knew that when he got out he’d need a shit ton of money to help pay the debt off - so his goal was to become famous….somehow.

Johnny won the card game -as usual, and he was ready for the day to be over, he got his 15-minute phone call every Wednesday, Tuesday was almost over for him. However, life was and is a constant bitch because one of the guards came up to his table, and gruffly told him to follow him. Johnny let himself get cuffed by the newbie guard and led to the visitor’s room where Legal Lee was waiting for him.

“You got your appeal in 3 months, however, they still want to give you the chair,” Lee spoke as soon as Johnny picked up the phone. “Now, you have to be good in here until then. No fights, threats, no fight clubs or shady dealings.”

“Already told you they won't sway on the chair.”

“Leave that to me and make sure you're compliant if you want the appeal if you wanna live the rest of your life.”

Johnny adjusted the prison-approved glasses he got before he stood up. “You know that ain't gonna happen.” he hung up and motioned the guard to take him back. Now Johnny had a lot more energy and a lot more pent-up frustration. He knew from the beginning that he would get the death sentence but each time someone mentioned it his anger rose to new heights - because who the fuck wants to think about dying in some shitty room, alone, with electricity going through their brain, who the fuck wants to think about their own death? It was something he never understood about suicide, how someone could do that to themselves. Hell, a part of him was actually scared of dying.

He was gonna fuck something up - the nearest chair got it, and the guard with his hand over the pepper spray started yelling for him to calm down but decided to spray Johnny in the eyes anyway. Johnny didn't, and he wouldn't stop, even with his eyes stinging and aching. The chair was in splinters and the guard got an elbow to his face before Johnny began to wreck the table and the window. Legal Lee made the right choice in running out of the visitor's room. Even when cuffed Johnny was the walking-talking murder machine. A very pissed off murder machine who liked to take out his anger on things that angered him. It took 12 grown ass men to take him down during his small rampage in the room, and all 12 to drag him into the SHU. 9 of them had the privilege of getting their bones broken, 3 noses by Johnny’s count and 10 arms, 2 legs and a couple of ribs, 4 knees and a leg, he was sure that all of them also had concussions.

The only injuries he got were a black eye, bruised hands and cracked ribs. He was also pretty sure that if it wasn’t for the chains restricting his movements he still would be on his rampage.

Johnny sat down in the bare room, he had nothing to destroy and he saw no point in beating his hands raw against the concrete walls. So, he picked at the bloody skin and the broken glass until two guards escorted him to the med bay to be taken care of.

They made sure to put a mild sedative into him first. The nurse took care of his eyes which were red, puffy and still stinging. “It’s not that bad, your glasses protected your eyes...for the most part.” She was soft spoken and gentle. He let the young girl wrap his ribs and hands up with no hassle, he was tired and the drug in his system was making him feel sick. 

He looked at the drawn curtain, where the steady beating of a heart monitor and the hiss of the breathing machine let him know that Playa was still alive. He knew that the government made a special petition or something that would let them fry his and Playa’s brain. For the electric chair to used in the case of Johnny Gat and the comatose John Doe one last time. He also knew that Troy had something to do with them being still alive - something that it would be more humane to use the chair during one day only.

He watched the girl work on his hands, acutely aware of Playa being in the same room as him.

He waited until the girl finished wrapping him up and stood up and pushed past the members of the prison staff. He hissed when a blank bullet hit his shoulder blade but kept on walking to where Playa lay. The guards rushed to him and had their arms wrapped around him but Johnny was a stubborn ass and pushed the curtain aside to see Playa.

He regretted doing that, but he needed to see him.

Playa lay there, weak and vulnerable. His hair and nails were neatly trimmed by someone, his already skinny body even skinnier and yet the proteins and whatever other shit they were pumping into him were keeping him from being malnourished. His face was marred by new scars, probably metal scraps hit him during the explosion. His whole right arm was burned, his neck too and Johnny suspected that his back and torso looked like a fucked up painting. His face seemed to have a graft on it because apart from the two small scars and a long scar running from his forehead, across the eye and down to his cheek. One of the smaller scars intersected the big one, the other ran down from his nostril to his chin, once again intersecting with the other small scar on his chin - an old one that he had before he joined. Otherwise, his face was burn-scar free.

“You make a fuckin ugly sleepin’ beauty Playa.”

_ Khssss hissss _

“Yeah, I know.”

_ Khssss hissss _

“Yeah, I will.”

_ Khssss hissss _

_“_ You better wake up soon or you're gonna miss them frying my brain.”

_ Khssss hissss _

He let the guards pull him back and watched the nurse pull the curtain back into place. Johnny spotted a small patch of the fabric covering Playa turning red.

“Why is there a blood stain?” he asked the nurse who looked wide-eyed at him. She looked ready to run.

“I'm not at liberty to ta-”

“What happened.” Johnny all but barked at her and he could feel the guards grip on him tightening, their fingers digging into his skin. He stared into the nurse’s eyes, his nostrils flaring and he was ready to rip her spine out if he had to.

“A fellow inmate tried to kill him.” She blurted out, she looked even more scared now, she had tears in her eyes from one simple question but as scared as she was, she was also quick enough to slip a needle with more of the sedative into his left arm, and he could feel the earth shift under him.

Fuck, he felt really sick now and he hated the fact that he couldn't just slam face first into the linoleum floor. To just feel something, to blame the drugs in his system on the hurt that he was feeling.

He also hated the fact of how quick the thing worked on him and the side effects. His stomach flipped twice before he gave a weak attempt of freeing himself from the guards hold, towards a bin or anything. A strong yellow bag was given to him by the nurse, or so he thought by the small hands with the small ring. He grabbed it from her and barfed into it until he thought he had no guts left. The nurse took the bag back (she wore fresh gloves now Johnny noted.) And the guards hauled him up and dragged him back to his cell, he noticed that it was his cell and not the SHU.

Stupid Troy - letting Johnny stay in his own cell. His head lolled to the side and he looked at the young guard, the Marlboro Man* as the inmates called him. He could often be seen smoking the brand and could be seen wearing a white cowboy hat and a jeans jacket. He looked to be a few years younger than Johnny but had the hard look of someone who was in his late fifties.

The other guard was an elderly man, probably a year or two from retirement, with grey hair and a brown, almost comforting eyes. Johnny knew him to be kind to prisoners and that he was respected by them, he was the guy who actually would give you an extra blanket if you asked him. 

Both of them pushed him into the hard mattress of his bunk bed.

He was lucky to get his own room, he was deemed too unpredictable and too incompatible to have a roommate, he was going to keep it that way. He also thought that Troy had something to do with it but no matter what Troy did to get on his good side Johnny would still try to kill him.

“Oi, Gat” someone snapped their fingers in front of him, he turned his face to see Shaundi and Pierce. They were both blurry even with his glasses on and they sounded muffled like they were talking to him through a thick door. “Fuck, what did they give you?” He felt someone put his legs on the bunk bed and begin to take off his shoes.

“M’fine.” he tried to kick whoever was messing with his legs. “Sleeps” His mouth couldn't quite form the words he wanted so he decided that various tones of grunts would do.

“You should probably just sleep it off.”

“No shit Shaundi thought that he should walk it off.”

“Well that makes you stupid but then again he would try and walk it off.”

Johnny kicked at the hands again. “Fuggof” that didn't sound right to him. “Fugh ofh” He gave a loud groan and really used up the last moment of consciousness.  “F u c k   o f f.”  Shaundi (Johnny decided that it was Shaundi who was taking his shoes off because she was nice like that) finally got the shoes off and she pulled the thin comforter over him. She even pushed him to the far end of the bed so he wouldn’t fall straight away and took off the glasses.

He slipped into a dreamless sleep, waking up three times once to see Shaundi and Pierce watching the door, then to his cell be locked up for the night, then again in the middle of the night to see nothing but his dark room. He focused on his poster of Aisha and re-realised just how much he missed her, how much he wanted to hug her at least or tell her that he loved her in person. Fuck, they weren’t that far away from each other and yet he felt like she was gone forever. He knew that if he broke out he could steal a bike and be home in less than two hours. The rest of his sleep was unbroken and he dreamed of Boss and Aisha.

He got up 15 mins before wake up call, it was late for him - he usually woke a solid half hour and had time for his morning workout. He reached for his glasses and put them on - he hated them, hated the thick black rim and lack of coloured lenses. 

He looked around his room and noticed that his room was searched while he was out - the box he kept his letters in was in the wrong place and the letters were spilling out. The picture of him, Playa and Aisha when she was officially alive was laying on the desk instead of being propped up. His bin was laying on its side and its contents emptied out. He wondered if they found the shank hidden behind his desk that he made from a loose screw and a broken pencil. 

He sat up on the cot and stared at the bars, waiting for them to open - he was tired and the prescription glasses were annoying him. He didn’t remember the dream but he felt a heavy weight settle at the bottom of his stomach. He also assumed that whatever drug the nurse gave him was in its final stages of wearing off.

The wake-up alarm sounded and Johnny stood up. He wanted to lie in today, he felt like shit but nevertheless, he changed into a fresh pair of underwear and clothing. He lined up for counting and told himself that today was Wednesday and that it wouldn’t drag on, that today he could hear Aisha’s voice.

He trudged to the cafeteria with the rest of the prisoners and began his boring fucking day.   
  



End file.
